PSOH 'One Year'
by tigersilver
Summary: A continuation of the 'One Morning' and so-forth, so-on series previously posted, this finds Leon and D contemplating Q-chan's surprising revelations with something a little less than equanimity.


**PSOH 'One Year'**

"Grandfather?"

The cell phone picked up and Leon anticipated the beep of the voicemail a couple seconds too soon. But it wasn't voicemail he'd gotten, not at all.

"Detective Orcot? Is that you?"

The voice was lispy, a young boy's voice, still pitched high and sweet. Leon froze.

"You're calling to speak with Papa, yes? Unfortunately, he's not here right now." A long pause, which Leon did nothing to fill. "Detective? Are you still there?"

"Uh." Leon grunted because his jaw had not fully reengaged. _Of all the shitty luck…!_

Naturally, his luck took a further swan dive, because naturally D chose that precise moment to enter the study, a loaded silver tea tray balanced above his swollen waist. His brows went up inquisitively when he saw Leon clutching the phone limply, expression slack in mild shock. Leon instantly gathered himself together, smiled maniacally and waved the cell, shrugging his shoulders as though it was no big deal. No biggie at all—no, sir. He disconnected discreetly, ignoring the small boy's questioning voice on the other end.

"Detective? _Detective_?"

"Hey, D. Thanks." Leon got up, stuffing his phone in his back pocket, and swept the accumulated papers off the other chair, shoving things on his desk aside to make room for the tray. He took it away from D firmly and put it carefully down, turning to watch anxiously as his pear-shaped companion eased himself into the now-tidy surface.

"You alright?" Leon peered at D, checking for any tell-tale signs of exhaustion or hunger, as he did every time he saw him. Which was often, since he hadn't left the Shop since he'd found out he was going to be a dad. The Count smiled soothingly and nodded, reaching out to pour their tea.

"I am."

"Thanks, then. Could use some tea."

"You're very welcome."

There was silence as they munched – tiny cucumber, walnut-and-mascarpone sandwiches, curried egg salad on toast wedges, petit-fours, miniature cranberry-orange studded scones and, in deference to D's condition, a jasmine scented herbal tea to sip with the small feast, fragrant and steaming in Meissen cups. Leon was hungry; it had been ages since breakfast and they'd skipped lunch, 'cause D opted for a nap instead. Of course so had he, ignoring the rumblings of his non-infant filled belly manfully.

Twenty minutes along, D sighed, replete, and sat back with his refilled cup, eying the still-chewing Leon speculatively.

"So, Leon, who was that on the phone? Grandfather again?"

Leon looked up sharply, appraising his lover. D's lips had twisted in mild derision but at least he wasn't screaming. They _had_ talked after Grandfather had shocked the bejeezus out of Leon with his lightning visit the best part of a year ago, which was good thing, really—that last according to Leon, but completely unnecessary, according to D.

D was still stiff as starch in a Chinese laundry over Q-chan's 'interference', as he liked to call it. Leon took the low road normally and never mentioned his occasional calls to the elder kami. He knew D knew—how could he not, knowing everything?—but neither brought it up, which was all to the good in Leon's humble opinion.

Brilliant, really. He didn't need D upset by anything other than the shit he was normally upset with—idiot clients, the vey rare bouts of morning sickness and—oh, yes—being gravid apparently perpetually.

"Yeah. Er. I was just leaving him a message, you know - 'hello, how are you,' kinda thing. Checking in."

Leon kept his voice light and casual, with effort. Truly, he didn't want D upset, even if _he _was. It had been almost thirteen months all told, damn it, and enough was enough. The damn baby should have been born fucking ages ago, and D should be back to his normal slim figure and not worn out with hauling around an extra thirty pounds…and enough really _was _enough, unless kami's possessed the gestation periods of elephants, which even _he_ didn't think was the case.

Thirteen was _not_ a lucky number.

Leon _hated_ this endless dragging on. It reminded him of his mother and not in a good way. She, too, had been terribly late giving birth to Chris and look how that had ended. Seven months had passed tick-tock since Leon had been told (finally, _finally_, and who did D think he was fooling? Leon was a detective, after all, and a damned decent one at that), and then two more for bad measure, and all with D gradually increasing around the middle till it looked like he had a tire wrapped around his waist, his pretty knuckles and trim ankles swelling, his gorgeous face filling out, beautiful high cheek bones obscured.

…Till he really resembled a Chinese silk-screen painting of a chubby courtesan.

"…fuck!"

He couldn't help but mouth the word, even though he knew D disapproved of foul language. But at least he said it under his breath, yeah? Leon had been all excited four months ago when he thought the end was near and he could finally hold the baby in his arms. Then Q-chan had said something to him in passing, something annoyingly worrisome and niggly, and he'd figured out it had been a full four months instead of the two he'd thought it was when D had finally told him he was to be a father, way back when. This for a grand total of eleven, when he'd stupidly thought it was nine.

Leon winced into his tea cup, careful to keep his expression obscured. Pregnancy had not dulled D's sharp eyes, not one bit.

He'd gone ballistic then, but on the Q.T. – if D freaked out too, just 'cause he did, well then he wouldn't know _what_ to do. It wasn't like he could call in a doctor or anything. Human medicine wasn't going to do D any good at all. D was strange—he was goddamn _mythical_—he was downright alien, yeah? And no human doc would have a fucking clue. So naturally he called Grandfather, who listened snidely to his concerns and just as snidely advised him to be patient, but never actually said just how long it could be before their baby was born or how long he must be frigging 'patient' for. And D—of course; why would he? close-mouthed freak!—didn't mention it, either; he didn't say a fucking word, just endured the added weight and swollen ankles and the fact that he was too often ill and exhausted and prancing about on his last nerve in one-size-up slippers. And then of course he smiled at Leon, the saintly Madonna smile that Leon had learnt hid discomfort, or sadness, or pain. It drove Leon fucking mad.

"You didn't speak to him? You seemed rather determined just then, Leon…perhaps you could call him back?" D's voice called Leon back abruptly; he started, tea sloshing gently in his cup.

"_No_. Not right now, D," he replied hastily. "I just left a message – I'm sure he'll be in contact when he gets back—"

"He's out, then? Who told you that, Leon?"

A hot red blush bloomed high on Leon's cheeks. He really could be an absolute ass. Which 'he' could be that same ass was debatable—him, for not being straight with D or D, for being nosy? He didn't know, precisely, but it struck him their kid would have to be watched very carefully. Apparently both of the poor little guy's parents were sneaky deceivers, first rank.

"Um, someone at the Shop. I really don't know who it was—" Leon tried; he did try. D should give him points for trying. He hoped.

The purple and gold gaze pinned him ruthlessly to his chair. Leon flinched slightly beneath the pointy weight of it, flushing.

"Which means Father answered the phone, I assume. You needn't hide it from me, Leon. I know he's there." D broke eye contact and looked away, surveying the piles of books and papers that surrounded Leon's desk. They were dusty and normally he didn't come in here, allowing Leon a space of his own within the boundaries of the Shop. He contemplated an argument, just for a little excitement, but he was tired again and it wasn't worthwhile...unless Leon didn't tell him what was going on, of course.

"No, I wasn't hiding it, D. I, um, just don't know what to say to him, that's all. It's kinda embarrassing with you right in the room, you know. What if he-?"

"Says something derogatory? It's fine, Leon. I don't care." D lifted his chin regally, raising his pert nose in the air. Leon didn't buy that for a second but he sure as hell wasn't going to argue.

"The point is, Leon, you're calling Grandfather again. You just called him two days ago, _and_ last week _and_ the week before last. Since I am not a blithering idiot, I think you must have a reason for this and I'd rather know what it is _now_, instead of being left in the dark, as I was _last_ time."

Leon sucked in an angry breath automatically. How the hell did D know who he called or when? And what business was it of his? So what if Leon called Grandfather – he did it all the time, whenever he ran into something mysterious in these piles of crap the Counts' blithely referred to as 'notes.' He called Jill and Chris, too, and so what? Since when did he have to explain his actions?

Since _now_. Since D had gone three whole fucking months beyond any normal due date…since he'd walked into the Shop three years ago and D had let him stay. Not that he would have left anyway, but still…

Yeah, okay. D did have some right to challenge him, at least on this. And it wasn't like he was comfortable hiding his conversations with Q-chan from D. He just didn't know what to say...or how to say it.

Frustrated, worried sick, Leon slid bonelessly out of his desk chair and kneed the short distance over to D's armchair. He put his arms around the swollen middle of the one he loved more than life itself and laid his tousled head in what remained of D's lap. Startled, D set his cup down on the nearest pile, careful not to spill, and placed his own arms just so around Leon's tense shoulders, resting his cheek on the top of Leon's silky blond head.

"What's wrong, Leon? Tell me—"

".._Worried_…" The voice was muffled, childish. D smiled fondly and rubbed Leon's back in long soothing strokes. Oh, how he loved this idiot.

"Why?" The question was a murmur, and Leon didn't respond for several long seconds. D wondered if he'd been heard. "Leon? 'Why', I said."

There was nothing that Leon hated more than 'D, disappointed'. With _him_, especially, when he should be working on being the best possible lover D had ever known. God knows D deserved it.

It hurt to see it; hear it, rather, in his voice, and feel the fingertips hesitate over his nape—so much so he spilled all the sorry tale, every last bean, every fear that had been clogging his gut like ground glass for months and months now.

"'S too long, D. _Too damn long._ And the asshole won't say anything and _you _don't say anything and I _can't_…"

Oh! It _did_ hurt, something awful. It fucking _panged_.

D held him closer and patted his back, soothing. There was the bulk of baby, too, pressing against Leon's stubbly cheek. leon blinked rapidly and recited miscellaneous baseball data in his head silently, over and over, so he wouldn't do something as stupid as sob...aloud, that was.

"There, there, Detective."

The Count sorely wished he could assure Leon that everything was fine, just fine, that the baby would come any day now, but he didn't know himself. This was all totally different from their usual mode of reproduction: foreign genes - Leon's genes - had been introduced, courtesy of the little loophole Mother Nature had so kindly arranged when the kamis had transformed into something greater than human. He did not know exactly what would happen or how long it would take. No one knew, not even Grandfather. Or perhaps he did, but wasn't telling. Zu Fu always knew more than he let on, but even D had not been able to wheedle it out of him.

He _had_ tried, whether Leon realized it or not. There was a limit to how much they could take. He worried for Leon, who had lost his mother.

They sat in silence for a bit, Leon with his head in D's barely-there lap, D bent over Leon as if he was a most precious burden upon him…greater even than the one he'd been carrying, all these long months.

The cell phone trilled in Leon's back pocket, shattering the precarious peace, and D ceased rubbing Leon's back. It rang again and he thought Leon might ignore it, but his detective sat up and reached back, grabbing and flipping the cell open.

The caller immediately launched into a smooth delivery—as to be expected. It was Q-chan, polite and his usual brand of smarmy.

"Orcot-san? I believe you called earlier. I am returning your call." The speaker was on and D heard his Grandfather's voice clearly, so like his own that Leon's head whipped around just to check. "You wished to speak to me concerning a matter of, ah…delicacy?"

Leon paled, huffed, and visibly straightened his shoulders to military-regulation stiffness and set his jaw into concrete mould, sending a fast warning glance to his lover as he did so. Obligingly—for once—D kept his mouth shut, though his eyes blazed with brilliant annoyance.

"Yeah, yeah, I did, actually." Leon gulped, letting some of the tension flow away as he focused on what was most important. It helped that D wasn't screaming bloody murder—

so far. He might yet, though, and Leon was well aware of it. "I had a question, Grandfather, and I want a real answer this time. You probably know what it is, even. So, _how long?_ How. Fucking. Long? How much longer do we have to wait?"

There was the slightest of pauses, the cell line crackling faintly across transatlantic distances and time zones.

"Is my grandson there, Detective?" The elder kami's voice was blandly genial. "I'd like to speak to him directly, please."

Leon snorted. His fingers gripped his phone nearly hard enough to snap it.

"No! No, damn it, _not again_. I'm not going to let you two blow me off on this – I'll never get a straight answer out of him if it's something bad and I'm not listening to any more fairy stories about fucking butterflies and Amazonian flowers, alright? I deserve to know, Q-chan, just as much as D does, so just get it the fuck over with and tell m-_us_! How _long_?"

His outburst was greeted with a general silence and Leon was afraid the old man would simply disconnect. He looked to D, worried that this might be too much for him, but D looked just as intent as he did, even leaning forward a bit in his seat, his full lips parted and very red, as if he'd just stopped biting them.

Leon's cock swelled, involuntarily. It was highly inappropriate to want to fuck D into the armchair at the moment, but, well—he was only human, yeah? And the tension was truly unbearable.

When Q-chan broke the quivering tensile-steel silence, they both jumped.

"Very well. I suppose it _is_ the right thing to do," he allowed. "I assume young D can hear me?"

"Yeah. He's right here, Grandfather." Leon held the phone up so that D could listen in on his Grandfather's theatrical long-suffering sigh.

"Bah," Q-chan snorted. "Well, then, need's must When I was carrying your Father, D, it was nearly twenty-four moons. Of course, I was in seclusion, so it did seem like a longer per—"

"_What_!" Leon was aghast, staring at the phone in disbelief, bug-eyed. "What—_shit_! What!"

"That many…!" That was D, faintly, whose amazing, unearthly eyes were rolling back a little in his head, just like a Victorian maiden's, and causing Leon to nearly drop the cell altogether in order to slide over to the armchair fast enough to throw a supportive arm about him. He clutched Leon's encircling arm with teeth-clenched desperation, nails biting cleanly through the cotton, and took a deep shaky breath. "Twenty-twenty-_four_, you say?"

Leon valiantly ignored the way D squeaked his question, face stolidly front. They stared pop-eyed at the innocent cell phone together, waiting breathlessly for the next bombshell.

Q-chan delivered, calm as per usual.

"Now _you_, my dear grandson, are three-quarters pure, so I doubt that it will be as long. Your Father carried for only nine months, similar to a human and exactly as all previous full-blood kamis have, and he produced you entirely of his own self. I would imagine your _other_ grandfather's genetic contribution will shorten the time for you…from the extreme I was unfortunate enough to experience." Count D's disembodied voice was pedantic and reasonable; entirely infuriating. "Perhaps sixteen months altogether, then. That seems a valid estimate."

"'Va-valid estimate', Grandfather? Why did you _not _tell me?"

D's normal purr had experienced as sea change mid-sentence; had risen to a weird raspy shriek by the end of it and Leon tightened his encircling arm, ignoring the trickle of blood staining his shirt as it welled up about those pointy nails of his. He had other concerns than the laundry to deal with at the moment.

Eyes narrowed to nasty blue slits, he embarked on a classic interrogation.

"What do you _mean,_ 'three-quarters pure,' Q-chan? Who the hell is this _other grandfather_?"

"Exactly as I've told you, children." Across the ocean and safely out of Leon's grasp, Q-chan had the bastarding temerity to chuckle. "This is not the first time a kami has cross-bred with a human. Nor will be the last, I am sure. We seem woefully susceptible to their blandishments." Q-chan sighed again, heavily—luxuriously, as if he knew it sent Leon into nail-biting fits of ire. "Well, if that's all you needed of me, I must go. It is nearly teatime and we are expecting a very important client at the Shop. Do take care, young D, and you as well, Mister Detective. I am very sure I'll be hearing from you soon."

"Wait!" Leon shouted, shaking the phone. "Hey—wait just a fucking sec-!"

The cell beeped as the elder Count abruptly hung up and Leon and D turned to stare at one another, D, for once, utterly speechless.

They did not speak of it, not at all, not one word, only returning back to the parlor for another pot of tea.

Well…D did keep repeating _'Twenty-four months'_ under his breath until Leon poured him a miniscule dollop of brandy and forced it down his protesting throat. He held D for a long time after that, stroking his dark hair and caressing his swollen belly, till D finally relaxed in his arms and dozed off, and then Leon settled his love carefully in bed. He himself wasn't at all sleepy; had a new puzzle to chew on, one that took precedence even over the long expanse of time that might still stretch before them, the months yet to pass come before their child saw the light of day.

"'Other grandfather,' huh?" he muttered softly, his eyes blank on the incomprehensible words of the latest Grisham. The Parlour in the late-night was dead still without D in it but Leon barely noticed. "'_Three-quarters'_?"

Asking T-chan to close up the Shop, Leon bustled back to his messy office and basically dove into the dairies, the photo albums, the notes scrawled on napkins, the long scrolls of old contracts, searching, searching for the one who had nailed Q-chan, the one who convinced a kami that twenty-four moons was a worthwhile price to pay. Hours later, dusty and mildly triumphant, he emerged with a list, short, yes, but still a list of those few humans the elder Count D might have found sexually attractive, once upon a time. If he'd any idea of just long kamis actually lived, it would been easier, sure, but he'd narrowed it down a little and likely enough, based on what he remembered Agent Howell saying and the various hints the Count had dropped over the last two years Leon had been hard at work organizing the records of a species unlike any other on earth.

That is…if they were actually true, all that crap about 'other fathers', half-bloods and pure-bloods, and not just Q-chan pulling his chain. There was one name at the top of his precious list that probably didn't belong there; this he knew in his gut, but Leon had a hunch just as strong as any he'd ever had as a real=life active Homicide detective back in LA and he kept it, front and center, scribbled above the Russian Tzar and the Victorian princess. It would explain a lot, he thought, probably way more than Q-chan ever wanted D or him to even know or realize about his private life, back in the day. He didn't even want to contemplate how (gulp) _Father_ might react.

Fortunately Father D—'Papa D', as _Leon's_ D once liked to call him-was safely planted in DC, a world away, and fortunately, too, Father was but a mere boy or maybe…eight now? Not in a position, at least, to hop a plane to Tokyo without an adult, then. Somewhat helpless and stymied, therefore, 'leastways when it came to exacting bloody revenge on nosy human detectives. Detectives responsible for, well, erm…banging away at certain other 'D's like rabid bunnies and getting them preggers.

Around midnight Leon peeked in on D, who still slept peacefully, and went to deal with dinner. It was horribly, terribly late and he was surprised that the Pets hadn't come to remind him.

Consulting the handwritten instructions D had provided him with some time ago, Leon distributed birdseed, bread and fresh fruit, vegetables and hay. He made rice and scrambled eggs (from organic happy chickens, cause they were the only ones D would buy) and poured crickets and larvae into little serving bowls. He saved the meat locker for last, slicing part of a side of Kobe beef into reasonable chunks for Norman and his mate, T-chan (who had his with rice and preferred to cook it himself), and the various other felines and canines, who also ate some kind of expensive organic kibble D mail-ordered in large quantities. For him and D, he whipped up thai peanut noodles, only cheating a little by using the seasoning packet, and a salad with miso, boiled edamame and minced hard-boiled egg. D needed protein and Leon could only do so much with tofu, although he was fast learning. The _Idiot's Guide_ Q-chan sent him, though mildly humiliating, had helped. He made miso soup, too, and yet more tea, gallons of it, it seemed, and then went to wake his lover.

"D. D, wake up now. You need to eat."

"Mmmn?" D stretched, grumbled faintly and rolled over. He wasn't ready to wake, but Leon kept at him, poking away at his bared shoulder blade with gentle fingertips. "Nhmph!"

"D. D. come on. Please?"

D sighed, eventually giving in to his Detective's insistence. If he didn't eat, he would be sick—like clockwork, it was—and then Leon would panic again quietly and probably end up disturbing Grandfather in the middle of the night with yet another pointless telephone call. Neither of them needed that, D was certain; better to give in, just this once.

"D? D! Wakey-wakey, babe. Food. _Tea_."

"Alright, Leon, I'm coming," D smiled up at him and it washed over Leon once again, the wave of warmth he'd gradually grown accustomed to these last years, the ineluctable feeling of 'home.' He could not bear to lose it.

"Do you want to me to come out—or?" D began, poking a bare foot out of the covers reluctantly.

The Detective jumped where he stood, and shook his shaggy head, frowning.

"No! No, stay. I'll bring it." He rushed off instantly but returned shortly enough with the tray of supper, and D was duly grateful, for he had a dull ache at the base of his spine and his stomach had suddenly taken to rumbling ominously. The child was hungry within and thus he was _required_.

With relative good grace, he accepted the tray, positioning it carefully next to him on the bed so that Leon wouldn't jar it as he climbed in companionably.

They ate and then D used the facilities, washing his face and combing his mussed hair. Leon cleaned up the dishes and checked on the Shop one last round, making sure all was secure. Pon-chan hugged him good-night in passing, a little harder and longer than usual, and Ten-chan winked before disappearing behind a door. Leon shook his head over it—odd as usual; all was well, then—and returned to bedroom, checking on D once more. Who was in bed again, this time with a novel. Leon smiled and headed for the shower to wash off the dust. As the water gushed over his head, Leon debated, for D might not need to hear what he'd discovered, but D was strong – stronger than Leon, really – and he'd be royally pissed if Leon didn't tell him what he'd discovered.

So he did, right after he got into their bed, hair still damp and curly, and D put down the book to pay attention, and then nodded at Leon's surprising conclusion and ultimately agreed with him. Hew was biting his red lips again, fretting away over the idea, but…it seemed more than likely ( D thought so, too, and he was no dummy) although there was one thing that didn't quite jive.

No matter. Leon turned out the light and wrapped himself carefully around D, one warm thumb rubbing the base of D's still achy spine and easing the pain to a tolerable level. D kissed his collarbone with silent affection and let his tired eyes close as he curled his bulk within Leon's arms. They'd telephone Grandfather Q-chan in the morning and confront him if they must, but for right now sleep was welcome to claim them. His love—his dear, dear Detective—needed all the rest he could get.

And all was well and peaceful too, there in the latest incarnation of the Shop. It subsided into sleep, excepting of course the nocturnals, who quietly roamed the expanses beyond those many scarlet doors. All was silent, slumberous, drowsy and golden-dark, the moments ticking past in a quiet hush.

At least, that is, until three a.m.

(TBC)


End file.
